


NotZiz's Snippets, One-Shots, and Shorts

by NotZiz



Category: A Practical Guide to Evil - erraticerrata, Parahumans Series - Wildbow, The Gods Are Bastards - D. D. Webb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-02-12 17:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21480076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotZiz/pseuds/NotZiz
Summary: A collection of various works that don't constitute a full fic
Comments: 7
Kudos: 76





	1. Principaled (Guide, Worm)

### Principaled

The world spun violently around me and I fell onto something with a whoomp and a crack. The crack felt like it might’ve been my back, whatever I had landed on was hard and lumpy. I should’ve figured that Masego’s experiments with my domain would end up being a pain somehow. Hauling myself to my feet I looked around where I had landed.

I was far from the snow and ice of Arcadia’s tundra, which was where I had expected to end up. Instead I was in some sort of small room. An sturdy wooden desk sat in front of me, some strange black rectangle in the center and stacks of different papers neatly assorted on it. The walls were lined with bookshelves and art, though both looked rather strange to me. Some of the books had bright, colorful spines that reflected the harsh light from the rectangle set in the ceiling. The room was certainly far too rich for my tastes and gave me the impression this wasn’t Arcadia. It must’ve been the office of some wealthy merchant or noble, as if I didn’t have enough of them to deal with already.

Turning I looked at where I had fallen an-

_Oh for fuck’s sake._

That was definitely the source of the crack. I had been half right, it had been back related. Just...not mine. An elderly woman was bent over in what I knew to be an impossible angle. My landing on her in plate armor hadn’t done wonders for her health. I doubted she would’ve survived even without the plate, but like Hells was I doing this experiment without preparing for the worst.

This was very unfortunate, though. Dislike for nobles aside, I had just landed in someone’s manor from the looks of it and killed someone important looking. I didn’t even know which country my dear, eminently bruisable friend had dropped me into. Certainly not Callow or Praes from the looks of it. If I had to guess, and I hated guessing because it was almost prophetic in situations like this, I had probably been dropped into Procer or Levant. Because it would be just my luck to be stuck in the middle of a Good aligned country with blood on my hands. Too much to hope that Masego would be able to pull me right back before anyone noticed I guessed.

A knock sounded on the doorframe as it slowly creaked open.

_Yeah, that about figured._

“Ms. Hawthorne? Are you alright? I heard a crash…”

_Right. Think, Catherine. What would Archer do?_

_Wait, no, that’s an awful idea._

_What would Black do?_ I took a quick look at the body in the knocked over chair and weaved a glamor to match. She was elderly looking so I took a guess and aged my voice a few decades. She was a noble, someone with power, so likely authoritative.

“I’m fine. Just one moment, I….uh, knocked something over.”

I quickly righted the chair and dropped one of the things on the desk onto the floor. The woman who had knocked pushed the door open enough to see inside right as I finished nudging the body under the desk with my foot with a muffled crack. The chair protested with a loud creak as I quickly plopped down onto it in plate. I leaned on the chair a bit awkwardly, blocking the view of anything behind the desk.

“Oh your lamp! I’ll go call the janitor,” she offered demurely, quickly scurrying back into the adjoining room.

“Yes. Thank you.”

I took the opportunity to look at the woman I had accidentally crushed to death again, fixing up my glamor a bit. Not a huge fan of manslaughter, but honestly I had committed enough atrocities at this point that it was, well, passable for now. I grabbed the body, opening up one of the cabinets at the back of the room and shoving it inside. I quickly shut the door and glamored it empty. Best to get all of the hiding the body bits done before the servants showed up.

An older man in strange garb knocked and pushed the door open, carrying a broom in one hand. I sat myself down in the chair, trying to stay out of his way and not do anything terribly out of place. I kept still as I could in the chair, worried it’d give another loud protest if I shifted too much.

“There we go, have that cleaned up in a jiffy. You need a new lamp right away or is the window light workable?” He asked nicely.

I looked behind me at the window that backlit the desk, sitting between the cabinets along the back wall.

“No, no the window will be fine,” I replied with false confidence.

He gave a simple nod, “Alrighty then. I’ll just let Janice know to order a new one.” He raised his hand in a small wave as he exited, carrying the broken lamp with him.

Odd, it hadn’t looked like a lamp. There was no obvious place to put the candle. Some sort of magelight perhaps? If so, he was being awfully casual about it. Something that expensive being disposable meant I had the amazing luck of killing someone obscenely wealthy. Well, Callow did need more coin in the coffers. Don’t suppose I can come out of this with their treasury in tow…The desk wasn’t even gilded, so I couldn’t scrape the gold off it to take home.

Right, I could scheme about how to get something useful out of this later. I had survived the landing, I needed to gather some information on where in the Hells I was if I was going to get home. I could gate back, but like I had told my generals, I didn’t like trying to gate from or to somewhere strange to me. Masego could do the calculations to compensate, but he wasn’t here right now.

Actually, that was really odd. My mantle felt different. The idea of forming a gate didn’t seem to mesh well with it anymore. Instead it felt like it was rooted in a different place, like I was looking at it through the wrong lens. I was less and less sure of being able to rely on my workings here, so probably for the best I hadn’t just stabbed my way out.

I turned to the copious amount of papers on the desk for clues. Surely somewhere in these piles of reports there had to be an idea of where I was. Even the country I was in would give me more than I had right now. I started to look over the papers. Lots of reports on different people, on finances. Some strange coin called a dollar, which wasn’t any currency I was aware of. The reports seemed to focus on classes and performance. An academy of some sort? Perhaps a school. A very wealthy one if so, judging from the room I was squatting in. Strange names that I didn’t recognize too. I knew what a History class was of course, but US History? I wasn’t familiar with whatever shorthand was used for these reports. They were impressive though, each was written in the exact same handwriting, clean and crisp beyond belief. I almost wondered if a Named had written it, perhaps Page or some local equivalent to Scribe.

Oof, that was a bad thought. I’d hate to be on the bad side of whoever was an equal to Scribe. I was less scared of her these days, but I had little doubt she could still do a lot of damage if she was of a mind to. The top of some of the papers had a seal. Hopefully the seal of this place.

“Arcadia High School”

Huh. Well that wasn’t particularly helpful. It was a school of some sort...named...after...Arcadia.

_Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me._

I reached out for my domain and rummaged around like I was going through the pockets of some kid trying to hide the candy he filched.

_I swear to all the Gods Below if you’ve gone and done this power-_

I was pulled out of my increasingly angry inner monologue as there was another rap on the door.

“Yes?”

The door opened again, this time the woman, Janice if I remembered correctly, was corralling a tall teenage girl into the room. The girl, for her part, looked a mix of annoyed and defiant.

“Your two o’clock meeting with Victoria Dallon?”

I nodded as if I had any idea what that meant.

“Ah yes. Thank you.”

I took a seat again, temporarily choking down the urge to manifest my domain and stab it. The girl reluctantly pulled the chair out on the other side and took a seat at an angle from me. If I had to guess, she didn’t like me much. I had learned much over the years about reading body language and she wasn’t hiding any of it. She was annoyed, a bit angry, and definitely a little worried. Also clearly waiting for me to speak. Fuck. Uhm.

“I take it you know why you’re here?”

Stay coy Catherine, remember how much of a dick Akua was. Channel that dickishness. Reveal nothing but still manage to say things. Don’t get your head lopped off though by being a smug bitch who thinks she’s better than everyone.

She nodded, with a sullen voice, “Yeah.”

I gestured for her to continue. I had to remember I looked old and authoritative. I had all the social pressure here, which was actually a welcome change. I had plenty of authority in Callow, but it was still nice to not have to work for it for once. Being young hadn’t helped my legitimacy. Neither had all the murder, but at least I had gotten a say in that part.

She sighed and continued on, “I’m here because of all the absences right? Look, it’s not my fault, it’s all the stupid criminals’. I can’t not go out if the Undersiders or Empire are pulling stuff nearby.”

I had no idea what she was on about, but I couldn’t say that it seemed like a particularly good idea for a student to be running out because of crime. It actually reminded me a bit of something out of the House of Light or the orphanage. Being absent too much was a good way to get a stern talk.

Now how to reply?_ I am an haughty old crone with more money than I know what to do with. I think the House of Light is an amazing institution and that children have no respect for their elders. This girl isn’t showing me the proper respect for my station and I’m annoyed at her for taking up my time despite the fact that I’d probably just play shatranj and tax commoners more with it._

“That’s no excuse for your attendance. This school has a high standard it expects from its students. I expect for you to live up to that standard.”

_That was good. Keep it vague Catherine, don’t show that you have no idea what you’re talking about. Just get her out of here, finish going through whatever papers are here, and get the hell out of here._

The girl stared at me agape and I started to have the prickly feeling down my back that I had said something wrong.

She stammered out, “What- You can’t- I’m-”

I shook my head, “Rules are rules. Now I imagine you have studies to get back to?”

“You can’t mean that! You’ve always allowed it before! I know it’s been a lot lately, but my grades are still okay and-” She raised her voice, slightly hysteric.

_Hmm, I might’ve gone too far. Oh well. Shame I had no idea if this Ms. Hawthorne was stern or not, but I guess she was now._

“I expect you to follow the rules. Now shoo.” I channeled the Matron from the orphanage now instead of Akua. Probably for the best, since as far as I knew the Matron hadn’t been beheaded or killed thousands.

She stood up, angry. “Is this because I’m not a Ward? Is that it?”

The shape of a word came into my mind.

“**Discipline**,” I invoked, “is an important part of your education. No excuses.”

My power and I were about to have a very serious chat about what in the Hells it thought it was playing at because that definitely wasn’t an Aspect I had before. I felt a wooden measuring rod materialize in my hand. The blonde student raised a hand to protest before flinching, pulling her hand back wide-eyed. The sound of a rod hitting her wrist as she did. Gods that was kind of satisfying after having been on the receiving end so many times.

The girl yelped in surprise as the ruler left a red mark on her wrist and batted it aside, splintering it with surprising force. I scowled at her and summoned another, hitting her other wrist in retaliation. Another surprised yelp and she batted that ruler aside as well, cracking it apart. I switched between hands, more rulers coming into existence as I laid into her wrists, each ruler being broken in turn by increasingly heated blows.

“How are-ow!-you even-ow!-doing that?” she growled angrily. A wave of something touched upon my mind, but passed over it, unable to find a hold.

I wound my arm back, getting a solid swing in at her shoulder. That’d give her some pause so she stopped destroying my rulers for one bleeding second.

“Stop that! I swear to the Gods Below I will have your parents hear of this!”

I didn’t even know where I’d even begin, but she wasn’t an orphan so perhaps this was a threat that actually worked on other children. She visibly paled in response, pulling her arm back while she massaged her shoulder tenderly. The abrasive and domineering behavior suddenly replaced by uncertainty and nervousness.

“Oh shi-Uh, I mean...I’m sorry Ms. Hawthorne. I really didn’t mean to, I just, things can’t hurt me and I was surprised and I totally didn’t mean to use my powe-”

I cut her off, the ramblings of a teenage girl were not overly interesting. “Well you’re in my school, so I can. If you promise to behave then I suppose no one needs to be informed.”

She quickly nodded several times, far too eager. I guessed her hot-bloodedness must’ve calmed down and she was finally realizing she had just picked a fight with...whoever I was. I was just happy that she hadn’t called my bluff and I’d be able to get rid of her without needing to figure out how the hells one sent a courier here.

I waved my hand at her, directing it towards the door, “Back to your studies now. Shoo.”

With that she hurried herself out of the room.

Turning my attention back to my domain I tried to conjure ice in hand. Instead I got a pencil. Weirdly yellow and shaped, but recognizably a pencil nonetheless. I pushed harder, reaching for Winter and trying to chill the room to a halt. The room quieted, the clock ticked more loudly, and an oppressive aura hung in the air, but none of that was from Winter’s frosty touch. Attempting to summon more ice just got me even more pencils, some sheafs of paper, a few rulers, and some weird triangle made of an odd, transparent material. This was decidedly a downgrade in terms of power since I doubted I could shoot pencils through platemail. Attempting to summon the essence of my domain so I could stab it was about as fruitful as my past attempts.

_Great, I can throw pencils at people and lower Hakram’s administrative costs. Fan-fucking-tastic. All because apparently some academy somewhere is named Arcadia and my domain got confused like a doddering old man in his cups! We don’t rule a fucking school domain, we rule Winter. You know, a bleak, hopeless tundra full of treacherous backstabbing assholes?_

Huh, actually other than the tundra part, that was surprisingly similar to a school. I looked out the window behind me. There was a soft dusting of snow on the ground.

_I’m disappointed in you right now domain. So incredibly disappointed. If we survive this I’m letting Hierophant dissect you._

Well, I wasn’t going to learn too much more inside this office and frankly I had probably already blown my cover in record time. I seriously needed Thief for these kinds of shenanigans, I didn’t have a stealthy bone in my body. I might’ve once upon a time but that bone had long since been broken and replaced, since I was some strange essence of Winter made physical these days.

I found the latch for the window and popped the bottom portion of it open. One of the few advantages to my height was it lent itself to climbing out windows. I was sneaking away from the back of the academy when suddenly I fell flat on my back.

_Of course, what fresh addition to my personal hell is this?_

I stuck a hand out tentatively and was met with an invisible force, pushing back against it. My hands reached out to the sides, feeling for an edge to the barrier and finding none. It seemed to form a straight line all the way to what looked like some strange pathway covered in smooth black stone. I followed the barrier towards the pathway, a sign sat on the invisible demarcation. I looked up and it and read:

“School Zone 20 M.P.H.”


	2. Adopting a Cat (Guide)

### Adopting a Cat

Masego looked up at him like he was the most interesting thing in the world. Large, brown eyes picking apart every detail in his face like a puzzle that had to be solved. Amadeus rocked him carefully, just enough to be soothing without being exciting. He had gotten a surprising amount of practice in during the last few months. It wasn’t something he had expected to ever learn.

Wekesa smiled faintly as a thin plume of smoke dribbled from his pipe.

“You’ve got a natural touch Amadeus, look, he loves you,” the wizard said with a grin and a knowing chuckle.

Amadeus flapped his hand gently in a dismissive motion, careful not to disturb the babe.

“Nonsense, he loves everyone. Even William.”

The baby smiled up at him again. He smiled in return, naturally. Not because of any hidden intuition or instinct, but because it was the logical thing to do. The babe sought comfort in the faces of the familiar, not knowing that things such as friend and foe existed yet. To smile back was logical, correct.

Nothing more.

\---

Sabah waved him down as he crossed the field. Mud gripped to his boots, the viscous consistency of the ground in this reach of the Steppes made travel during the rainy season all but insufferable.

“Amadeus! Leaving so soon?” She called, her voice projecting as well as her size would imply.

He rolled his shoulders in a tight shrug, barely perceptible but obvious to his friends. They knew him enough from over the years that even the smallest of his habits was an open book among them and vice versa.

He replied, “Yes, it’s about time I returned to the Tower. Malicia is moving to her next step in disenfranchising the Truebloods soon.”

It would be decades before they were well and truly rooted out of the Wasteland, but that was the sacrifice they had made. Slow, painful steps in exchange for steady and permanent gains. He would still gladly drive them into the sea or into Sabah’s axe given the chance, but Allie had convinced him all those years ago that this was the better path. Sometimes he wondered if that was true, but he had given her his word. He trusted her to do what was best.

Sabah, for her part, gave him a sad smile, “Still, you can’t spare a few more days? We were hoping you could watch the children for an evening or two.”

Amadeus hesitated. Allie would want to confer with him over their next move. However, Sabah was one of his oldest friends. She often had to spend months away from home. A night or two watching her children so she could have so much needed time with her husband was a small price to pay for her happiness. Besides, Allie worked on the scale of decades. A few days wouldn’t hurt.

It only made sense.

\---

“I am not-” Amadeus said sternly, “-missing something from my life. Where did you get this idea?”

Eudokia twirled her quill around her fingers, deftly spinning it as she looked at him with that knowing gaze of hers.

“We’ve all seen it Amadeus. It’s okay. You’re allowed to be human.”

He snorted heavily and turned from her, looking at the Tower. It rose above Ater, a looming spire representing everything he had worked against for the last several decades. Someday it would stop being a symbol of mad tyrants and wasteful excess. He didn’t expect to live to see it, but he knew that one day it might come.

“I’m merely being the friend I don’t often get to be,” he mused in return.

Eudokia raised an eyebrow at him. He wondered how many of her eyes and ears had been appraising her of the situation. It was an easy mistake to make, a man of his age taking to the children of his friends was a common enough sight. That they had made the mistake of thinking him the same was unbefitting of their expertise, but understandable nonetheless. Once he had corrected Eudokia of the notion then he was certain it would percolate down to the rest of her network appropriately.

She clicked her tongue. “And what about being the man you don’t often get to be? Sabah has her husband, Wekesa has ‘Lohse, Hye has...whatever is within arm’s reach.”

The pale-skinned man looked up at the stars, just now coming out as dusk slowly fell on the capital. Not easily visible, given how brightly lit Ater remained at night, but they’d grow as the night got dark. Hye would have a much better view, Sanctuary was nearly as far from civilization proper as one got without traversing the Chain of Hunger or the Everdark.

He sighed, “Enough Eudokia. If I ever get the urge to be a parent I’ll do the proper Villain thing and...hmm, kidnap an orphan I suppose.”

She quirked her lips in a smile and turned to go. He preferred to stay and watch the stars. It was good enough that she had gotten the message. It was one thing to spend time with the children of his friends, but suggesting he wanted a family? He’d have to have Wekesa do a spell to check for mental influences on her.

It was preposterous anyway. The bonds he shared already precluded such a thing. The image of Hye and children together gave him anxiety over the safety of said children. If by some miracle she did raise children he was relatively certain they’d be forged for hunting angels and harassing immortals. Nevermind her unique sensibilities over how to build character. There were a hundred reasons why it would never work. They had never needed to speak about it, it was obvious to both of them.

He looked down and saw a small pamphlet left on the ledge beside him. Picking it up he scanned the page:

“Advice for New and Would Be Parents”

The parchment was consumed by shadow and he groaned.

\---

William nodded, eyes tracing over the sketch he had been handed. A noble in Merchantis of no small means. It was their next target in the continued campaign to remove elements that would eventually preach for their own removal. That he hadn’t yet was immaterial. Removing him after he made his next set of proposals would garner suspicion. Assassin had asked for creative liberties and Amadeus had been inclined to grant them for once. Everyone was getting some much needed relaxation in. If this was how Will wanted to do that…

“One thing before you go,” Amadeus said, stopping him.

William looked up at him. “Mmm?”

Amadeus narrowed his eyes at return. “Are you pulling something on me William?”

The small child that bore a face of angelic demeanor looked at him with large, saucer shaped eyes full of innocence. Not that the Duni believed that for a second. First of all because William was about the furthest thing from cherubic on this side of Creation. The choice of disguise was ironic, at minimum. In addition, Assassin was second to none in being able to disguise himself, but Amadeus had learned how to pick out some things over the years.

“Me? On you? I haven’t the foggiest what makes you think that,” he said in a voice that could make a Choir swoon.

“And you picked a child because?” He followed.

William gave him puppy dog eyes. “To be discreet of course.”

“Discreet.”

“Naturally,” William said.

Amadeus felt his eye nearly twitch but calmed himself. If this was another jab he was going to change his mind on his rejection of those permanent smell-altering stinkbombs that had been proposed at the latest Legion Innovation Seminar. Goblins never failed to surprise him.

“I assume this is part of your plan?” he asked simply.

William smiled. “A highly successful man, bereft of family, but with wealth and resources to spare. Watching his friends grow older surrounded by happy families and gaggles of children. In comes a small child, pure of heart and in need of a father figure.”

The Calamity mimed out the scene as he spoke, clasping his hands together and looking upwards in faked distress.

“A classic story, retold over generations. Perfect, don’t you think?”

Amadeus kept his face blank.

“Yes. Perfect.”

\---

Alaya was clad in her usual style of simple elegance, despite it being only the two of them. The role of Dread Empress meant that the entirety of Wasteland nobility was watching her. In all likelihood they were safe in here, Warlock had made the wards for these rooms himself. Still, many a Dread Emperor had been toppled by thinking themselves safe when in private. As such the role that she played rarely came down, even if the relative safety of her seat of power. Though it was still Allie that spoke to him tonight, Malicia was always ready to take over.

“You will, of course, have to keep an eye on Summerholm and Laure. Within a few years the increased pressure on the local economies will reach a critical point,” she said.

He glanced across the map of Praes and Callow, though he had long since internalized nearly every notable location on the continent.

“The pressure on the governors’ coffers is necessary,” he said. “The main Heroic lineages within Callow have been culled, but we are still at risk of more obscure Names rising from the situation.”

She nodded. “How long do you anticipate it taking?”

“Five, maybe six months. The situation should reach an equilibrium by then. Eudokia will then take over the long term maintenance,” he replied.

“That is settled then. I’d wish you good luck, but I know how you feel about fortune,” she said.

He gave a quiet chuckle. “If fortune were ever on our side then such measures would hardly be necessary.”

“Quite.” She had a sparkle in her eye. “Though there is one small concern... My spies report strange sightings in Praes. A man, usually dour and serious, entertaining small children and cradling babes. I’m quite concerned about this madman roaming about the countryside.”

Amadeus nearly choked on his cup, a small, constrained cough all that he would give her as some wine went down the wrong way.

“Perhaps the Tower should open a nursery or boarding school?” She said with a predatory smile.

His face remained blank. Without a sound, the Black Knight rose from his seat and headed for the door.

Alaya rose from her lounging sprawl, “Come now Maddie, don’t go. We only jest because you put on such a stoic face all the time.”

“I’m going to go pacify Callow now,” he said stiffly.

The Black Knight glanced back at her and slipped out the door, into the main hall for that floor of the Tower. It was always a bit of a process to get out of the Tower. Besides all the arcane horrors housed in the thing, there was also the labyrinthine passages, the magical security, and the sheer size of the place. It took the better part of a day to get in and out of some sections.

At a small inn on the outskirts of Ater the Black Knight placed a small mirror onto a stand. The runes carved along the sides activated with his touch and his alone. The surface rippled like liquid silver for a few moments before slowly resolving into familiar features. A sharp grin on sharp features, from her elvish ancestry on her mother’s side. She was, from the looks of it, covered in some sort of strange warpaint at the moment.

“Hye, I wanted to speak to you-” he started.

Ranger interrupted him, “It’s true! You know when William sent me that missive I had it burned it was so ridiculous, but the look on your face…” She cackled loudly. “Wow, I can’t believe it. Oof, thanks, I needed a good laugh.”

The image was interrupted as Ranger turned to the side, hand whipping up into the image to deflect something.

“Anyway I’ve got to run, Titans are being a bit feisty. Have fun with those parental urges!”

The image cut out as the mirror settled back into solid silver and Black let out a long, tired sigh.

\---Six and a Half Months Later---

The edge of the room rumbled as the elevating platform came to a halt. Sabah and Eudokia sat in the middle of the room playing shatranj. Unsurprisingly Eudokia wasn't playing entirely fairly and at least three game winning cheats had been attempted and foiled by Wekesa’s oversight. Wekesa himself was lounging with his pipe, idly tracing a few runes in the air around the board. A spell to ensure compliance with the rules of shatranj had turned out to be a surprisingly complicated affair, owing to the complex nature of the game and difficulties with multi-layered rule-imposing arcana.

William was chatting amiably to Alaya while the others preoccupied themselves with the game. The former having just returned from his reign of terror in Mercantis and the latter having a minor headache over the long term consequences of causing a pathological fear of touching coin in the most prominent money lenders in Calernia. She was largely pleased that he hadn’t continued his experiments with what he had called transmissible fears at the very least.

The door swung open, slow and creaky as it was designed to for maximum dramatic effect, the fruits of Dread Emperors of years past. Black entered the room, smiling at the sight of his old friends.

Sabah was the first to speak, turning her head part way over her shoulder. “Good to have you back with us.”

Her massive hand shot out, grabbing Eudokia’s while she had been in the middle of swapping two pieces.

Wekesa glanced up from his reading momentarily, asking distractedly, “Nail some nobles to their manors or some such?”

Amadeus smiled slightly, amused. “Not this time I’m afraid.”

Alaya leaned over the edge of her chair, furrowing her brow. “Amadeus, did you bring one of William’s doubles back?”

“No, this is Catherine.” He stepped to the side, pulling his cloak away to reveal a small girl. “Catherine say hello.”

“...Hello,” said the small, somewhat sullen, dark-skinned girl.

The room went still as everyone’s attention was suddenly fully on Amadeus. Shatranj was forgotten, magical reading dropped, and William had turned into a shadow. Eudokia looked equal parts terrified and elated.

After a moment, everything returned into motion at once.

“Amadeus, what the fuck-”  
“Did you kidnap a child?”  
“Where did you get her, who-”  
“You can’t just steal children Black-”  
“Gods Below, Hye is going to kill me…”

“I adopted her while investigating in Laure,” Amadeus stated plainly.

“What? You can’t-” Alaya rubbed her temples, standing up and leaning over to look at Catherine on her eye level. “Did this man kidnap you? It’s okay, you can tell us the truth.”

Catherine shook her head, eyes darting back and forth with worry. “No. He came by the orphanage and adopted me.”

Wide eyes turned towards Black.

“You, the Black Knight, adopted a child...of unknown parentage...from the country we invaded…” Sabah said, slowly.

Black nodded. “Yes.”

Sabah burst into heavy peals of laughter, her great frame shaking. “Okay, good enough for me.”

Alaya whipped her head back and forth, “What? No, not good enough! Maddie, dear, how did this even happen?”

“I found her in trouble with the guards for fighting some boys,” he said. “She seems to have a talent for it, despite her size.”

Catherine glowered up at him.

He patted her head. “Don’t worry I’m sure you’ll get bigger.” She stopped her glower, appeasement switching back into wariness.

Wekesa chimed in, “Amadeus, that’s hardly an answer. What are you going to do with her?”

“Do with her?” Amadeus smiled. “She’s my daughter. I’m making her part of the family.”


	3. Libera Me from Drow (Guide, Gurren Lagann)

### Libera Me from Drow

[A/N] Alt Ending to Book 4, as such Book 4 Ending Spoilers

“Then fear me, drow,” Akua Sahelian announced, “for I wield [the power of friendship.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5EXFilTUiko)”

I could feel the shade stealing the vestiges of Winter, pulling them into a working I couldn’t have followed even when I had held my mantle. Knots of raging power swirled around us, the clumsy melds of Winter and Night tying it inexorably to Sve Noc.

The giant face of Sve Noc roared before us, “What does that mean?”

Akua grinned like a mad woman, her smile full of wild abandon. “It means...gattai.”

I half turned my head to the shade next to me, “Gattai?”

“What language even is that?” Sve Noc said with confusion. The giant head shook, “Nevermind, enough!”

Night rippled and roiled from her form, parts of Winter following along as the intertwined powers surged forward like a massive wave to overwhelm us. The entire cavern was filled with Night, the shadow of the impending wave stretching over our little corner.

Akua grinned, glorious and insane.“Don’t underestimate us!”

The wave of Night bucked and twisted, following invisible lines, runes that hurt my eyes just to look at lining their path. Winter pulling off it like a poorly stitched together cloth, coming back to us. I saw what she was doing. The last second comeback. The redemption gambit. A play for heroes. But then, who was the bigger villain in the room?

Sve Noc fought against her, shattering the runes as quickly as they appeared, yet somehow one step behind Akua.

“That’s impossible! You can’t take Winter back. Your mantle is broken, your power shattered!”

I saw the spell start to buckle and bend under the weight of Sve Noc’s attention. Even Akua couldn’t keep ahead of an entity that had been teetering on the brink of apotheosis for thousands of years. Not alone at least. Oh Akua, somehow dying at Liesse hadn’t tempered the sheer gall of her plans in the slightest.

I pushed myself up, feeling the mad grin spread contagiously to me as well. “Impossible? Broken and defeated? Hells, all that means is we’re just getting started! The very gods of Arcadia called us a Woe to our enemies and we mug angels from beyond the grave,” I said with determination. “That’s just who we are!”

The flow of power held, ripping Winter away from Sve Noc. Bringing it back to the both of us.

Akua joined in, “Even if we were to be powerless and abandoned-”

“-our will to succeed will overcome all odds!” I finished for her.

I continued, “Even if the very gods of this world stand in our way-”

“-our lies and violence will open the path!” Akua finished, with a gloriously malicious grin.

Gods dammit that was going to be our motto forever now.

“We’ll show you our path through force!”

I looked into Akua’s eyes and for once behind all of the scheming and treachery I saw only one thing. She returned the look and there was an understanding between us. Then I felt the energy coalesce. The remaining runes glowed brightly in the air and exploded as the power surged. I felt the Mantle return firmly under my grasp. Our grasp. Akua controlled the flow of it, wrestling the power. I was given the driver’s seat, directing our will.

**[ULTIMATE WINTER QUEEN OF BLACKEST NIGHT CATHERINE SAHELIAN]**

“What the fuck was that? And Ultimate Queen? Pffft.” Archer snorted, throwing an arm around the two of us.

“Indrani? When? Where?” I stammered.

“You seriously think I left you half-dead with tall, dark, and handsome and wasn’t following along?” She asked, looking genuinely offended.

“For the record I never even considered you abandoned me. Also for the record, Akua named it,” I said

“I did not. Twas the power of friendship that named it,” Akua countered.

Winter was still haphazardly tied to Night, binding us to Sve Noc. Neither of us could hold our power comfortably until the other was dealt with. I felt my chest burning with adrenaline, power, and no small amount of flesh wounds. Huh, still mortal under all of the power this time. The rising feeling in my chest needed an outlet and I had a perfectly good stereotype of an evil demi-god right in front of me. Right, back to that.

“Who the hell do you think we are?!” I shouted.

Winter had been pulled from its natural well and existed as a boiling mixture of snow, ice, and fog around us. The power physically manifested in the air around us. I had a big head, but not quite enough to go for what Sve Noc had done with her power. Instead I pulled it into a more familiar shape, lifting us up into a bigger version of myself. Now Juniper could really say I was getting full of myself.

Sve Noc charged forward and I stepped forward in turn to meet her. Our two respective domains made manifest clashing against each other. Limbs of Night coiled and tore at our form as I grappled her massive head. I could sense Akua above me, near the top of the avatar. She was countering something else, the more finessed attempts to unseat us from our power. With her protecting us on that front, I could focus on what I did best.

Brawling.

I slammed forward, smashing our head into Sve Noc’s and sending her stumbling back. The look of sheer surprise, quickly followed by anger and outrage, was completely worth it if this entire thing didn’t pan out and got both of us killed.

She used a tendril to wipe at her face. “Such idiocy! Such arrogance! If you could not stop me before with your Mantle, what makes you think anything has changed now?”

I formed a spear head of ice at the front of my fist, crashing it into her, “Shut-up-and-give-me-back-my-stolen-godhood-punch!”

The goddess rocked with the block and suddenly a spiral of Night tendrils came crashing into me from the opposite side. I stumbled, the blow sending me off balance as more tendrils of Night speared in to capitalize on my mistake.

“Stay-away-from-my-dearest-kick!”

Akua took control of the legs, punting the head of Sve Noc under the chin so that she was forced off of me, reeling from the blow. Apparently even a goddess could lose some teeth if you kicked them hard enough in the face.

“I-want-in-on-this-too-throw!”

Archer said, grabbing the tendrils of Night that remained near us and heaving. She started to pull, swinging the lumbering form of the sisters into one of the cavern walls. Dust and smashed rock flew everywhere as she crashed into it.

“How are you doing any of this?! Friendship doesn’t give exponential power!” She said, pulling herself up.

Sve Noc pulled her tendrils of Night back in what looked suspiciously like a wind-up for something I very much did not want to get hit by. I had been unpleasantly reminded of my mortality plenty today already.

“Begone!”

In the span of a single blink of my eyes we went from a stand off to a massive blast of Night crashing into us. I put our hands up, trying to block some of the onslaught. I could feel it tearing at the edges of the Mantle, eating at Winter through that shared link the two powers still held. Even as I tried to push us forwards I felt our power weakening, driving me down to a knee as I held against the storm.

Akua spoke calmly, her voice carrying directly through Winter to my head.

“Dearest, allow me to handle this.”

She took the reigns over our power as I handed it off to her.

“That’s what I was waiting for!”

The shade shouted, diving into the power as it surged around us, the blast that threatened to overwhelm us split, spinning around as Akua usurped the power, pulling it into the two of us. Where Night was tied to Winter she pulled and wrestled, stealing Night away from Sve Noc as well. The power was becoming a part of both of us. Akua was controlling the flow, subverting it from Sve Noc’s control. My body was the vessel, the rightful holder of the mantle and the physical anchor.

“None of this is how magic works!” Sve Noc shouted.

I could see the shape of things now. She was really trying for the redemption play. Taking the burden of controlling all of this power and handing it to me, her supposed friend, at the last possible second. Linking the two of us for a moment to be bigger, better than our foe. It was a powerful story. But redemption plays aren’t without a cost. I’ll make it count then.

Akua seemed to sense my thoughts through our connection. Or perhaps she just knew that it was the obvious conclusion.

“So this is the power of friendship, huh? Not bad. Not bad at all.” She gave an echoing laugh.

I wouldn’t feel sorry for her, not after all that she had done. I gritted my teeth and just gave a nod. She’d get the idea. I could feel Akua fading away as she converted the energy, stealing it from Sve Noc.

I felt re-invigorated as the power pushed us to even greater heights. More than just Winter, more than just Night. This was the power of friendship. We were brimming with energy. The giant head of Sve Noc loomed above us and with a thought I redirected the power, an avatar of winter forming around us, lifting us even higher until we scratched the ceiling of the cavernous shrine. Archer took the reigns from Akua, handling half of the energy while I directed it.

Sve Noc roared with outrage, “You come into my home, shouting incoherent phrases and playing at godhood. Your childishness only leads to destruction. Your own people have suffered under your rule and you have the gall to make ours follow.”

Sve Noc swelled in size, Night flowing into her as she quickly matched us. Black clouds rolled off her form. The same mixture of Winter-Night that fueled us was fueling her as well, but where we were mostly Fae-like with the bleak whiteness of winter, she was mostly Drow like with the pitch blackness of Night. Pinpricks of bright white snow freckled her form, just as small tendrils of Night did ours. I could feel Archer riding beside me inside the massive avatar of Winter-Night. It almost felt like she was shaping it to look like the Winter King, except for eyes of green fire.

I embraced the flow of the new narrative. “We’ve made mistakes, but we change and improve with each scheme and battle! Though we falter, we have never stopped trying to protect our people!”

Sve Noc threw a massive hand forward, swinging for us. The wind-up was ridiculous, but with the sheer size we were working on it almost had to be.

“We never gave up! We’ve suffered for eons, in ways beyond your tiny comprehension to protect our people!” She bellowed.

I slapped the blow aside. I had brawled in the streets as an orphan and I hadn’t stopped brawling since. If she thought she was going to overwhelm us with just weight alone, I was going to give her a rude surprise.

“You haven’t protected them, you’ve made them into cattle for the Gods Below!” I shouted in return.

We traded blows back and forth, each going faster as we pushed the limits of our power. My punches knocked aside by her better grasp of her domain. Her punches knocked aside by my own tenacity.

“It was the best that could be done!”

As she threw a counter I caught the fist in our own, rocking back to absorb the blow.

“No! It’s the best that you could do!”

I slammed our other fist towards Sve Noc as she disengaged from the grapple. She batted the lumbering blow away. She broke the grapple and I threw another punch, which she caught in turn.

“You sit down here in your tunnels, a half-finished apotheosis slaved to the whims of the Gods Below. You haven’t tried in eons!”

Archer chimed in, “Cat is right. It’s probably impossible, but if anyone can actually change shit down here it’s her, with us right behind!”

I struggled against Sve Noc, pushing back at her as we grappled. “I’m done bleeding for the Gods! I’m going to open a path to the Heavens and the Hells and beat the ever-loving shit out of all of them!”

I thought of those we had lost, of Captain, of Ratface, even of Akua. I thought of Hakram and Rat Company, the first to ever trust in me. I thought of Masego and Indrani, who had chosen to stay with me despite everything.

“For the people who I’ve lost along the way, for those who are still by my side. For Callowans, for everyone to get the chance to live freely!”

I felt my dream coalesce in my mind as a single point.

“That’s what we fight for!”

“My will is the will to topple the heavens!”

I surged forward, slamming against Sve Noc and letting go of my attachment to a more human form for our re-stolen power. Spikes and limbs of Winter-Night crashed and battered against the drow goddess. She replied in kind with the same ferocity, tendrils of Night ripping into our form, tearing and pulling at the very power itself.

Our powers locked against each other, stalemating as spikes dug into Sve Noc only to get stuck and tendrils of Night pulled at us only to fail to break free. Each attack gave both of us a little less to work with and less room to maneuver. The entire cavern was being wrecked by our struggle, massive chunks of stone cracking and falling off the walls as our powers filled the space in the struggle.

My options were quickly diminishing, each limb or spike of power that I stuck in Sve Noc was countered by one grabbing onto me. I pushed forward, knowing that determination was what would make or break this.

“Catherine!” Archer shouted as she deftly moved what was left of our power in the shrinking space. “Kill her and take her stuff!”

Indrani pulsed the power around my tiny physical form, surrounded by the mass of powers and still bleeding and wounded, throwing me straight at Sve Noc. I was propelled forward, flying straight through the mix of Winter and Night. The silhouette of two drow sisters stood among the chaos and I plunged in freefall straight for them. One stood in front of the other, raising a sword and shield defensively.

I dove towards them, with just enough time to twist as the sword snaked out for my heart, crashing with both legs into the shield and toppling the one. I rolled with the hit, rolling over the fallen drow to see the other start to raise her hand towards me. I hopped up, throwing an uppercut that caught her squarely in the jaw. She toppled back, landing with a thump.

And then everything exploded.


	4. Adopting a Cat 2 (Guide)

### Part 2

Two children strolled along together in the shadow of the Tower. One seeing how long she could keep kicking the same rock for without missing it, the other lagging slightly behind as he followed. The soldiers on watch duty kept a careful eye on the two, while doing their best not to look like they were. Even the Tower’s fearsome guardians spared a spare eye or three for the children. Orders had come from above. If either were to be hurt...well, no one wanted to imagine the precise consequences.

“You want a pony,” Masego said slowly, clearly still trying to get his head around the idea.

Catherine folded her arms, puckering her face. “Yeah. So?”

“I don’t get it,” Masego concluded, shaking his head.

Catherine aimed another kick at the rock. “If it was a magic pony I bet you would.”

Masego nodded agreeably to that. “A magic pony would be very interesting-”

Catherine tuned him out as he started to go on about all the cool things a magic pony might do. She didn’t particularly want a magic pony, just a regular one. She knew she had life good. Better than the other kids who were probably still stuck at the orphanage. It was just a bit weird. She liked her new adoptive father, he was never mean to her and he taught her all sorts of tricks, but he was also very strange. Was it wrong that she wanted something a little normal? Was she being selfish? She pushed down the guilt that started to bubble up and make her stomach feel uneasy.

She distracted herself from the dawning realization that introspection was a thing by stopping and poking Masego in the side.

She pointed to back of the Tower’s grounds. “Let’s go explore the sewers again.”

Masego wrinkled his face in disgust, “My dads got upset at me last time and my clothes stank for days.”

Catherine stuck a tongue out, “Can’t you just magic it away?”

“It’s not that simple…” he tried to protest.

“Dad gave me a dagger and there’s some rope by the entrance. I want to try and catch a spider. They’re magic I hear,” she said, pulling the hidden dirk out of her waistband to show as proof. It was nearly as long as her arm, functionally a sword given her size.

Masego paused before starting to move after her, “Well...if you say so.”

The two galavanted off towards the sewer entrance at the east side of the Tower. It was a beautiful day outside and they weren’t inclined to waste it with anything less than adventure.

Silently, dozens of guards and soldiers, both human and inhuman alike, began to panic.

\---

Amadeus of the Green Stretch was a problem solver. The entire world was a series of cogs and levers, all of which could be assembled into a solution, no matter the problem. His ability to find solutions was second to none. His execution of the Conquest had solidified his status among Calernia and the subsequent clean-up was showing exactly how long term his plans were. Which was why he was frustrated that he couldn’t manage to solve this one.

“It’s just a regular pony,” he insisted to the Calamities and allies lounging in the room with him.

“If that’s a regular pony, I’ll eat Wekesa’s hat,” Sabah stated bluntly with a short laugh.

Wekesa shot her a look, resisting holding his hand to his head protectively.

Alaya sprawled out on her recliner, watching the children casually as she did. “Maddie, you never do anything that doesn’t serve at least two goals. Is it enspelled to keep her safe? Stolen from another High Lord to fuel a rivalry?”

Amadeus flopped his head down, sighing. “It’s just a pony.”

Across the rather large room Masego and Catherine were being taught to ride by Eudokia, who kept shooting sidelong glances at the pony. The pony, for its part, was standing rather contentedly next to her, happy to eat the apple Amadeus had brought to help lure it inside. Catherine was sitting atop its back, her usual quiet demeanor forgotten as she grinned widely.

“I don’t detect any spells on it…” Wekesa muttered, holding a pair of spectacles up to his eyes.

Black leaned over, snatching them out of his hand and putting them on one of the tables. “Would you stop that? Why can’t you simply believe I wanted to get her a nice gift?”

They all stared at him silently for a moment before he put his hands up placatingly. It looked like Eudokia even had a list of examples ready, as she unfurled a rather long sheet of parchment she had pulled from her sleeve.

“Point made.”

\---

Black watched as Catherine learned how to steer the pony, going around the grounds at a gentle trot. Sabah was leading the horse by the reigns as she did, making sure she’d be okay if she lost control. He had made sure to get the most well mannered horse he could find. He was absolutely not going to emotionally traumatize his daughter, who happened to be a Callowan orphan, with a poorly thought out gift. Amadeus looked upwards and shot a squint at the Heavens.

She deserved a bit of normalcy anyway. Gods knew she was going to have a strange childhood no matter how much he might try to insulate her. Better to prepare her and give her islands of normalcy as a reprieve than try to shelter her and have it all inevitably collapse. She’d need to be able to take care of herself someday anyway. Sheltering her too much would just hurt her in the long run.

His heart gave a small pang at the thought of her being hurt though. He quickly quieted the feeling and gave the Heavens another glare. Don’t even think it, he silently thought up at them.

Catherine got off the horse and came running over, running into him at full bore and wrapping him in a hug as she buried her face in his stomach. She looked up at him with a smile, “Thank you Dad!”

Her eyes nearly welling up with tears as she did. Amadeus hugged her with a careful firmness in return.

“Of course. Just remember, horses are living things just like you or me. Take good care of him and be nice to him,” he said.

Catherine nodded vigorously. “I will!”

He smiled. “I know you will. Now let’s go bring him back to the stables so you can see how to make sure he’s taken care of.”

She stopped clinging to him and jogged off towards the pony with the energy that only children had. Thank the Gods her legs were short, he thought to himself, otherwise he’d get tired trying to keep up with her running everywhere. As it was, he was pretty sure he had quite a few years of being able to keep up with a brisk walk. He had no idea if she’d be tall or short when she finished growing up, the orphanage had no records of what her parents were like.

As long as she wasn’t taller than Hye. She got weird around women who were taller than her.

\---

A group of shadowed figures lurked in the stables, their footsteps silent as they traversed the hay covered ground.

“Was it really necessary to wake me in the middle of the night for this?” one of them protested.

He was shushed by another, who shot a glare at him for the obvious breach in sneaking protocols. Gathering his robes underneath the preternaturally black cloak, he grumbled to himself as they snuck down to the appropriate stall.

Surely this was no regular pony. For both little Cat’s sake and Black’s, it was their duty to check it out. Black had been stubborn about it, so their best recourse was a quiet investigation during the night. The better to investigate unhindered and without interruption. If worst came to worst and the pony was unsafe, Sabah had assured them that Wekesa could conjure a replacement identical to it. Wekesa had said he could do no such thing, but he was probably just being lazy they had concluded.

The Calamities gathered round the sleeping pony’s enclosure, nodding to each other as William checked the gate for any traps. Wekesa briefly glanced over it for sorcery and, finding none, promptly went back to being half asleep. Sabah and Eudokia nodded to each other, leaning from each side of the gate and pulling it back as they prepared to enter.

The gate swung forward and in the pitch black of the enclosure two bright green eyes stared out at them. The Calamities jerked back in surprise, as none had thought that any other than the pony would be in the stables. William simply disappeared into the darkness when he got surprised. However, Sabah and Eudokia both recoiled back, pushing into Wekesa.

The shadow stepped forward, growing in size to loom over the group. Wekesa, half-asleep, was roused with a startle as Sabah grabbed him. She pointed Wekesa defensively towards the shadow.

“Hnnn-nuh? Don’t swing me! Light, light!” He shouted, fumbling for the spell from his groggy stupor. Warlock threw his hands forward, his startled mind racing for the strongest light spell he had available.

The guards outside turned as a patch of the stable roofs suddenly exploded in a pillar of light and flame.

\---

“Wait, I thought we had put him in the stable on the West side?” Cat said, tugging at Amadeus’s slightly singed cloak.

Amadeus pinched his nose and took a second before answering. “He was moved earlier this morning. Apparently the Western stables got a bit...messy. We wouldn’t want that, right?” He said, putting on a smile.

Cat seemed satisfied with that answer, content to let go of his cloak and jog ahead as they meandered over to the stables.


	5. Literally Practical Guide Except The Ophanim Are A Bit More Verbal (Guide, Crack)

A/N: Spoilers for Book 5. Text taken largely intact with changes for comedic effect. Credit to CaptainofmySouls from Discord for the phrase 'Celestial tinnitus'

It was time.

The Grey Pilgrim could feel it: if he acted now it would be an intervention safeguarding those in his charge. Sitting with his eyes closed, he could still feel the growing weight on his shoulders. The vigor – always sweet, always passing – of a younger man filling his body. The writ of this had not been offered to him by the Choir, it was no tragedy unfolding caught by Mercy’s myriad eyes and made known to his own. This tale had been of his own making from beginning and it would still be that when the end came, Gods forgive him for it. With every death the burden on his Role, the stakes of his existence in this story, had increased. Now, though his spirit felt like a spine on the eve of cracking, he had the necessary reach. It was a bitter irony that the deaths of soldiers had been the balance’s harsh swing in his favour yet the true burden he must bear had been of no consequence at all. Catherine Foundling had given the slip to every story that could bind her to an ending, and so left herself only one path: reign eternal, consumed and consuming, a herald of long prices and hard measures having made mantle of the woes of Creation.

If he could change one thing, he would've asked for slightly less vocal Angels. Their guidance had saved him many times, it was true, but on this eve, where his spirit was nearly broken from exhaustion, their constant murmurs only made things more difficult. Their voices harmonized with a melodic quality that no choir of earthly origin could ever hope to capture. However, since that fateful day of the Black Queen's return, they had yet to cease their murmurs. He could hear them, always, in the back of his head.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit-"

He tried to focus through the worried murmurs of his divine patrons and the subsequent exhaustion that came from weeks of poor rest. The Black Queen had wriggled out of every binding and shackles, broken the sole irons he’d once set around her wrists. No redemption could be demanded by one who had forsaken her, not even for a greater good, and the broken oaths between them were yet another finger on the scales. Not so heavy, he knew, that it would doom him. But she’d be always a little luckier, a little harder to reach so long as that imbalance stood. In a less dangerous villain that would be merely inconvenient, but this one? She’d always had an astonishing intuition in those matters, and whatever else the Everdark had made of her it had also made her cautious. Patient enough to take a step back and let others take the lead if it meant offering fewer openings to foes like the Pilgrim.

“I wish that you had answers for me,” he said. “That you knew whether in my efforts to prevent our doom I am forging the very instrument of it.”

The Ophanim murmured in his ear, "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit-".

"I also wish that you would shut up long enough for me to sleep," he muttered bitterly after.

Before, in Callow, the Choir of Mercy had been able to see through the skein of her. Where threads may lead, choices that may or may not be. And with his own eyes, his sight of what moved the Queen of Callow, together they had considered what she might yet become. Now, though? There were entities at her shoulders that did not brook such perusals. And what entities they were, colossal towers of misery and murder stitched together with prayers to Below. Goddesses of wails and horror, swimming in a shadowy sea of their own kind’s blood. The Black Queen had clasped hands with these abominations, and from what he could tell done so willingly. Knowing what he knew, not knowing what he did not, what choice was there but the ugly business of this night? If there was even a single chance that Catherine Foundling would be the keystone to the death of Calernia, Tariq must ensure it would not come to be. And so now Tariq was forced to countenance this hour of barren deaths, lest a thousandfold worse might be allowed to pass.

The Grey Pilgrim opened his eyes, looking up at the darkness before the dawn.

“We have sung together before, old friends,” he softly said. “Will you sing with me, once more?”

Murmurs, worried, "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..."

"Sing, not give me celestial tinnitus," he reminded them.

His gaze moved ahead at the battle where so much blood was being spilled.

“This will end it,” he said. “And finally I can get some sleep.”

Comforting hands on his shoulder, and with that assent he let out a weary breath.

“Pilgrim of grey,” Tariq sang.

The Ophanim hummed along, a choir distant and melancholy. A chorus of ever-weeping eyes who were charged with ever seeing the worst of Creation, yet still ground their fingers to the bone saving what they could. They hummed along to the Anthem of Smoke, that song that was the flesh and blood of Levant. An impossibly pure and melodic note reaching out over Creation.

"Oooooooooh shiiiiiiiiit."


	6. Teller’s Magic & Mystery Tour (TGaB)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short snippet based on me misreading the name for Horizon's character in their fic, which you can find at https://archiveofourown.org/works/21375907/chapters/51388543

### Teller’s Magic & Mystery Tour

He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but the entire building was in an uproar. A number of guards, for though they had strange staves and antiquated armor that’s what they had to be, were surrounding him. He was evidently somewhere important, the gilded halls and luxurious looking stone reminding him of the ancient palaces of older dynasties.

Curious, since he had been practicing a new trick with Penn just a moment ago. The magic portal trick was, as was all magic, smoke and mirrors. A handy bit of distraction and misdirection, some lies, and a good bit of audience participation to deny the armchair skeptic an easy explanation, but certainly not magic. Which made it all the more perplexing that he wasn’t in their theater when stepping out of the box.

“Don’t move! Identify yourself!” one of the guards shouted in a commanding tone.

“Get on the floor!” another shouted at the same time, conflictingly.

“Hands up!” a third shouted, at which he sighed exasperatedly.

Raising his hands in the air, he slowly pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve. The guards hesitated, looking at him in that strange mix of anticipation and confusion he had grown so used to over the years. Giving the shape of a bow to them, he held the handkerchief out, demonstrating it was only of normal size. Four by four inches approximately, white in color, and completely unremarkable.

Slowly, Teller held it over his head, gave one sharp tug that saw it expand into a billowing sheet, and disappeared.

\---

If it wasn’t one thing here, it was another.

“You’ll have to forgive me, unfortunately it was made quite clear that your presence is required. Now I would avoid any unnecessary conflict, so if you would be so kind as to come with me?” said the man with glowing green eyes.

Teller mimed a thinking motion and a frown.

“Is it true you don’t speak? Or is it that you cannot? If you’d be willing to hear my employer out, I could take a look at that for you. My magic is well suited for healing ailments, even old, well set ones,” the man, who he suspected was not just a man, offered.

He held a single finger up, asking for patience. The robed man was as patient as he seemed and obliged him. Fortunate, as Teller was like any good magician. He was a skeptic. Blindly following a strange man’s requests to meet an even more unknown personage was a great way to end up with his pockets empty, and that was being generous.

Teller pointed to the man and then to his own ear. The man frowned and reached up to his own ear, pausing stock still before pulling a classic US minted quarter out from it.

“What-? When? And even moreso, how?” 

Teller held up a finger again. Pulling a quarter out of his pockets, which he was rapidly running out of since he had used this trick a few times to escape pursuit now, he placed a second quarter on the ground. He held up a hand to indicate the man wait, and stepped around the corner.

Teller booked it out of the building as fast as he could. He probably had a solid two minutes before he realized Teller wouldn’t be coming back.

\---

“I have to say, I don’t see why you’ve caused such an uproar. All I’ve seen so far is some street magic,” the woman said, looking down at him with disappointment and annoyance. “Fairly good street magic as it goes, but nothing worth all this hubbub over.”

Teller was panting lightly. The blades trick, the Indian rope trick...even the pigeons had failed to get her off his case. He certainly didn’t have a revolver and most of his other tricks relied on having Penn. The weakness of being a two person show for so many decades. Not that he had planned to be relying on his magic tricks for survival. Well, not since moving out of that part of Philadelphia anyway.

“As much as I don’t particularly care for Imperial Intelligence, you aren’t worth pissing them off for I’m afraid,” the woman said. She had called herself a professor, hadn’t she? Not particularly helpful, he hadn’t done any school tricks since he stopped teaching.

Holding up a finger, he grabbed a set of cups from the table beside them. Some wax paper was also there, perfect for his needs, so he tore off a sheet and crumpled up three wax paper balls. Placing three cups face down and one ball on each cup he held out his hands.

“The cups trick? Really? You’re trying to convince me with the oldest trick in the book?” she said with disdain.

Teller continued, picking up a ball, disappearing it, and lifting up the cup to reveal the ball inside it. He did this with each cup and ball in turn, to the woman’s rising annoyance. He then placed a single ball on the middle of the three cups, pocketing the other two. He then disappeared the remaining ball to reveal all three under the middle cup.

“Honestly at this point you’re doing more to convince me to turn you over than not.”

He held up a finger, removing the three balls, placing the cup down again. He shuffled the cups, lifted each in turn. Nothing, each was empty. He then shuffled them again, lifted the center cup. A massive ball, far larger than the previous three. The woman raised an eyebrow skeptically. He lifted the two other cups. Each also had a massive ball underneath, which he moved out.

“Passable,” she stated.

He lifted the center cup again. A potato, that barely fit within the size of the cup toppled out.

“Not bad-wait what the fuck? Where did the potato come from?” she asked in a sudden outburst. “That’s...there wasn’t even a potato in here. Were you carrying it this whole time? But it looks fresh, hell it still has dirt on it.”

A sudden knock on the door interrupted her thinking. The voice of an Imperial agent carrying through from the other side.

“Professor Tellwyrn, the transport is here. Do you have the asset?”

She looked over at the door, glancing without moving her head. She looked back at Teller. Teller gave her a gentle smile and a bow.

“No. No, I don’t. He’s disappeared,” she said, without missing a beat.

A wave of her hand and Teller found her lie become truth, as the room faded away and he appeared elsewhere.


	7. Adopting a Cat 3 (Guide)

### Part 3

Alaya lounged on her couch, flipping through one of the most recent reports from the Eyes of the Empire. The High Lords were busy trying to maneuver around each other for the new appointment opened in Callow for governorship after Maddie’s latest excursion. He really did need to stop killing them quite so frequently, it was worse than herding cats. Magical cats with centuries of deadly heirlooms squirreled away in every imaginable recess. She was pretty sure if you set a given High Lords manse on fire that the magical explosion from various artefacts going up in flame would rival the field of Streges.

Glancing up at the eternally bound devil that had been twisted into the shape of a clock, she noticed it was growing late. Getting up she looked over to Wekesa, who was off in the corner sipping tea and messing with an enchantment of some sort.

“Wekesa, where are the children?” she asked, tossing the report into the fireplace.

“Playing in a pocket dimension,” he answered off-handedly, not looking up.

“Which pocket dimension? It’s time for dinner,” she replied.

“Hmm,” he mumbled thoughtfully, flicking through a runic array now.

“...don’t tell me...” she groaned, not wanting to think of what would happen if he had lost them.

“Just give me a seCOND, I GOT THIS,” he shouted back, increasingly unnerved.

“Gods Below,” she cursed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Was it at least a safe pocket dimension?”

Wekesa turned around, looking ready to scoff before he slowly went pale.

“Probably?” he squeaked out.

Alaya let out a soft groan. “Maddie is going to kill you.”

\---

“I win! Game’s over Mr. Sparklehands,” Cat shouted with glee, looking over at her opponent.

The fae noble sighed, looking at her with resignation. “I told you, that is not my name…”

Cat lifted the silver blade at her side, poking him in the thigh with it. The fae leapt into the air with a pained yelp and glared at her.

“Your hands sparkle when you do the water tricks, so your name is Mr. Sparklehands,” she declared, folding her arms and sticking her chin up.

“Or are you going back on our deal?” she asked with a slowly growing grin, more teeth than smile.

The fae scrunched his face up, lips trembling as he tried to muster up the courage to push back and failed. Letting his hands flop to his side, he shook his head.

“No. You have won our bet. My name...is...Mr. Sparklehands…” he answered, dragging it out uncomfortably.

Cat switched back to a gleeful smile. “Yes it is! Does anyone else want to play?” she asked the small gathering of fae in the courtyard. The castle-like structure that surrounded them was made of living wood, lush plant life decorating the walls and grounds. A chorus of shaken heads indicated that no one was willing to test themselves after the Lord of the Dancing Waters.

The small girl skipped over to the wooden tower, knocking loudly on the door as her dejected fae followed in tow.

“Zeze! Are you done yet?” she shouted.

The door opened, Masego looking out from inside with mild impatience written across his face. His boyish countenance nearly hidden under the mane of hair he had at the moment.

“I told you, I’m not going to make you the faerie queen. I’m studying in here,” he snapped.

Cat huffed in response. “But I even got a noble! He can make me a princess and then becoming a queen should be easier, right?”

The fae swallowed audibly.

Masego looked at the fae, narrowing his eyes before rolling them. “He’s just a Lord, he can’t do that.”

The fae smiled ingratiatingly down at her. “He’s right, my lady. I’m afraid that’s beyond my power.”

“Well then,” Cat said, a fiery glint in her eyes as she whirled on them. “Show me to someone who can.”

“As you wish,” Mr. Sparklehands replied with a sharp grin.

\---

Amadeus pulled on his cloak, bringing it back close to him as the howling wind and rain threatened to tear it away again. His hair was drenched even through the helmet he wore as he trudged through the marsh alongside Sabah. She was having just as miserable a time, albeit an easier one. Her height and strength together made the marsh less of a challenge for her. Wekesa clinging to her back was only a mild inconvenience.

“And you’re sure they’re in this one ‘Kesa?” he shouted over the deluge.

Wekesa clung tightly to the broad brimmed hat he was using to shelter himself from the rain while on Sabah’s back. He peered out from underneath the soaked hat, streams of water pouring down off of it.

“For the last time, yes! They’re lost children, not fleeing mages. Tracking them down is a simple matter,” he shouted back.

“If it was that simple, how did you lose them?” Sabah grunted in a half amused tone.

Wekesa’s reply was cut off by another squall roaring through the marsh. The three Calamities hunkered down, using a thick mangrove tree as a temporary windbreak. None were particularly encouraged by the violent weather; typically the undercurrents of whatever was happening in Arcadia were reflected in its weather. A violent storm meant upheaval and conflict. That it had come on so suddenly could only mean one thing, for Arcadia did not have incidental weather.

Amadeus did not shoot a glare at Wekesa, but he thought of the concept of doing so at him very hard. How the most brilliant sorceror of the age could forget that he had hooked up his personal pocket dimension to Arcadia for experiments was beyond him. Or rather, how he hadn’t expected that two children of the Calamities wouldn’t find their way into trouble was beyond him. Catherine and Masego were both highly intelligent and dangerous for their age, but children were still children. Catherine was only just ten name-days old as well. Fortunately the Pony Incident had never gotten out to her from her name-day either.

The squall continued and Sabah, growing tired of hiding behind a tree, hefted the end of a fallen one from the marsh and carried it like a shield. Amadeus moved in behind her and they pushed through the boggy, flooded ground together.

One way or another they’d make it through this maelstrom. Between Wekesa’s magic and the three different tracking marks he had on Catherine, they’d be able to find the children. He grimaced as he was battered by some woody debris. Thinking back, if he had known Arcadia was going to be this tempestuous, he would’ve brought Hye. She would’ve loved him for it.

\---

“Huh. Don’t really see manticores in Arcadia. Wonder how that thing got stuck in here,” Sabah mused, stroking her chin as she stared the beast down.

The beast stood in their path, blocking the only pathway out of the boggy forest. A mocking visage on a human-like head that was attached to the grossly disproportionate lion’s body. The tail of quivering, venomous spines swayed back and forth dangerously.

“Well, the fae typically prefer human playthings, but it is not unheard of for them to take beasts on occasion,” Warlock provided. “The most well known case being that of certain magical beasts. A unicorn that lives one hundred years is said to be taken to Arcadia to live as a royal companion, though there’s no reliable accounts of such happening.”

Black moved forward, unsheathing his blade and ducking under the deceptively long tail as it swiped through where his head had been.

Sabah nodded along thoughtfully. “I recall Hye mentioning a colossal wolf that she battled when she pursued the Prince of Winter once. Large as a warhorse, with jaws strong enough to crush stone and steel.”

The manticore lunged forward, driving powerful paws into the ground. A touch too slow to catch the Black Knight as he darted to the side, swiping his blade across the creature’s flank.

“It begs the question of whether the fae only abduct the inherently magical to Arcadia or whether the unique nature of Arcadia begets inherently magical mutations,” Warlock mused with an interested smile. “Though we’d be able to settle the matter if Hye wouldn’t kill every single one she finds. A live specimen elucidates much more.”

A sharp whistle filled the air as one of Black’s shadows shot a crossbow bolt into the manticore from behind. The quivering tail raised up and a flurry of spines shot out, spraying dirt as the shadow they had aimed at dissolved back into darkness.

Sabah let out a gruff laugh. “True. Hye does tend to leave less of her prey than more. That ain’t going to change, so I guess you’ll just have to get more from less.”

Black skewered his blade through the manticore’s forepaw as he darted to the side, avoiding yet another crushing blow. Glancing back to Sabah and Wekesa on the sideline he shouted, “If you’re done discussing the taxonomy of Arcadian fauna?”

Sabah cracked her knuckles and stepped forward. “We wanted to let you get some practice in. Can’t have being a dad get you lazy. ‘Kesa, some poison resistance?”

Wekesa sighed, shooting a glare at her even as he saw the cheeky grin she gave in return. “You know that generalized poison resistance is useless, there’s too many variants for a single catch-all spell to sufficiently capture the necessary-”

“It gives my skin that lovely acidic green sheen though,” she replied, barely restraining her grin.

Warlock threw his hands up in resignation. In the background Black ducked under another strike, a shadow driving his blade into the creature’s hindpaw.

“Take your useless spell and go wrestle it or jump down its maw or whatever you plan to do,” he replied, sitting down on a log in a huff.

He sighed and took out a sample flask, already resigned to the likelihood that there wouldn’t be much more of the creature in a usable state. At least the heart of a manticore was a useful, and relatively uncommon, reagent. As long as Sabah didn’t pull its heart out to eat or some other crazed urge during her battle.

\---

Black sulked ahead of them, treading the dirt path that was traced out with tiny glistening prismatic crystals.

“A storm and a beast. This feels more and more like a Story about a rescue,” he said aloud to his companions behind him.

“Not a particularly strong one yet,” Wekesa commented in return. “Both were slight delays, but without much strength behind them.”

Black hummed thoughtfully. “True,” he said simply, not wanting to admit that he might be overly concerned. All his concern was perfectly logical and scaled to the problem at hand. It was just that losing his daughter was a very big problem and he was concerned appropriately. That was all.

“As long as we don’t run into a Hero or two, it’ll be fine,” Sabah said with the biggest shit eating grin ever.

Wekesa turned to her, throwing his hands up in the universal gesture of ‘what the fuck’.

A man in gleaming chainmail stepped onto the path behind him. Unsheathing a rapier, he declared, “And what do I see before me, but the infamous Calamities themselves! Seems fortune is on my side tod-”

The first crossbow bolt took him in the back of the knee. The second one took him in the neck as he toppled forward. Black’s shadows pulling back to him as the man fell to the ground with a muffled thump.

Sabah gave him a smile, “See? Worked like a charm. Now we’ll find them faster with that out of the way.”

Black simply rolled his eyes and went to go quickly loot the corpse. A storm, a beast, and now a Hero. It was time to book it.

\---

Captain cut down the Lord of the Weeping Boughs, panting slightly as the thick oaken branches that had dug into her flesh began to wither and recede. Warlock and Black finished off the Lady of the Babbling Creek, rushing up the steps made of frozen sunlight. The throne of the Court of Summer lay ahead. Blood-stained hands grabbed at the golden door handles, hauling the double doors open and revealing the grassy, open air court.

A booming voice sounded out from inside, “Support me and instead of a queen, you would have a dark princess, not fair but powerful and terrible as the sun! All shall look upon me and despair!”

Little Catherine held up a miniature sun above her, floating just above the palm of her hand. Slightly more than half the Fae of the court opposed her, weapons drawn, but were cowed by the searing rays of sunlight that swept from her palm. Masego stood by her side, holding a few basic runes in High Arcana threateningly around them.

“You will do no such thing,” Black said flatly, crossing the divided court steadily towards her.

Catherine looked over, surprise and chagrin suddenly warring for dominance on her face. “Dad! I, uh...this isn’t what it looks like?”

“What did I tell you about accepting seemingly unlimited power?” he lectured, tapping his foot as he reached her and stopped.

Catherine glanced at the tiny sun, then slowly back to him, “...don’t because it’s always a trap?”

He nodded and looked at her silently.

Her shoulders drooping, she groaned and flicked her hand, tossing the sun over her shoulder and incinerating the unfortunate fae behind her. “Fiiiiine. I wasn’t gonna keep it!”

“Mhm,” he replied in an unbelieving tone. “C’mon, dinner was ready hours ago. Play time is over.”

Catherine rolled her eyes dramatically but nodded, stepping down from the dais and following along behind him.

Masego dropped his runic array as Warlock came over as well. Warlock leaned down, whispering into his ear, “Was that a manifold array using High Arcana? Why I’m so proud of you! Wait until ‘Loshe hears!”

The five of them walked out of the grassy court room and down the gleaming stairs covered with blood and bodies, whispers of congratulations and lectures on the dangers of ill-conceived apotheosis filling the air. A startled and traumatized Summer Court slowly returned to its senses in their wake. The half finished coup resumed, the distant sounds of bloody infighting leaking from the golden doors.


	8. A Practical Guide to Living With Arthritis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I saw the book title and the rest, as they say, was history. Terrible, terrible history.
> 
> Original Hakram art by Gwennafran, Butchery of an Edit by me.

Hakram Deadhand stood at the front of the assembled and diverse crowd. Callowans, orcs, goblins, and even a few priests stood in a rough semi-circle facing him inside the cleared out medical tent.

“Thank you all for coming,” the right hand of the Black Queen gravelled. “I know it may not be as glamorous as another war council or seem as important as working on the latest ritual from the Hierophant, but I trust that you’ll all find it well worth your time.”

The orc held up his skeletal hand, flexing the fingers in a wave as he showed off the exposed bones. No one in the crowd didn’t know of his hand, and reputation, by now. Anyone with half a brain in the Army of Callow had heard the rumors or seen it first hand, but for many it was their first time seeing it so close. No small number leaned in just a bit, especially the priests in the crowd.

“Chronic joint pain is an insidious disease, sometimes caused by old war wounds, sometimes striking from nowhere. Be it shrapnel that was wedged into your wrist or an unlucky stroke of fate, anyone can find themselves unable to hold a sword firmly or toss a sharper,” he said, starting his lecture.

“Recent work by priests who remained in Callow has shown that a diet rich in red meat appears to make us more predisposed to one form. Orcs and goblins make up a disproportionate number of those who report joint pain that interferes with their duties.” 

The orcs and goblins in the crowd looked at each other, noticing that despite their relative numbers in the army they made up a solid two thirds of the attendance. 

“The only known cure is intensive magical healing or full limb replacement,” he stated, once more holding up his hand. “I don’t recommend the latter, since it usually involves getting hacked at by a Hero.”

The crowd laughed, the orcs giving him a few good-natured shouts, the goblins some playful jeers. Hakram flashed his fangs back in a playful way and the crowd settled.

“Now, I’m here to do two things today. I want to dispel some myths that have been making their way around the camp and I want to give you all some advice from our chirurgeons that will actually help.”

He held up three bony fingers, folding the first one down. “First off, dragon blood will not heal your joints. I don’t know where any of you were hoping to get some, but if you want to bother General Catastrophe for some, please do it at least a half day’s walk from the camp. We don’t want any collateral damage to the tents from when he decides to incinerate you.”

Some nervous laughs erupted from the human contingent of the crowd. A few goblins were whispering to each other about how to fence dragon blood if it wasn’t going to help with their problem anyway. The Adjutant folded his second digit down.

“Second, the Sinister Physician should not be bothered unless you want your joints replaced with something worse. I didn’t think this would need to be said, but his Name has Sinister in the title. Three soldiers now have joints that whisper terrible secrets to them at night." 

One goblin spoke up, asking loudly, “Didn’t LT Albert distract a Revenant in the last battle with his?”

Hakram resisted the urge to roll his eyes, simply nodding. “That’s correct. He’s also been on half shifts since he hasn’t slept properly in three weeks. Let me make it clear: if you get your joints fixed by the Sinister Physician and it goes wrong, we won’t be coming to fix you up. You should know better by now than to make deals with proverbial or literal devils.”

Some unhappy murmurs spread through the crowd, which were instantly settled as the Deadhand gave them a meaningful look and folded down his third digit.

“Third is gold thread to hold your joints together. This would be harmless, if expensive and ineffective on its own. That some of you have begun mixing in the explosive compounds used in sharpers with the thread is a different matter.”

When he had first heard the reports of soldiers discretely bribing some of the physicians to weave the thread into their joints he had discarded it as wasteful, but low priority. Then one of them had blown their arms clean off during evening prep in the mess hall, standing too close to the cooking fire and scalding his hands. The burns had been survivable, the loss of both arms to the elbow less so. That it had ruined several dozen meals worth of produce hadn’t gone unnoticed either.

“The exploding goat is a time honored tradition of this army. Exploding hands off soldiers in the middle of combat because you got whiffed by a fireball is not. The chirurgeons have been notified and will discreetly remove any such threads if you report to them within the next week. Senior Tribune Robber should not be listened to when dispensing medical advice at any time.”

This time one of the orcs in the back spoke, holding up his sword. “What if works Deadhand? My grip hasn’t been this good in months!”

Hakram nodded, he had been hoping for such a lead in. “An excellent question. I’m now going to go through several options that have been proven to help joint pain without being a threat to the camp, yourselves, or the soldier next to you. First we’ll start with a series of exercises and compressive wraps that will relieve pain and improve range of motion. After that you’ll be shown how to modify your gauntlets or gloves with supportive splints infused with poppy extract…”


End file.
